That's Progress
by MovePeonyMove
Summary: When Kira asks Malia to become her bridesmaid, chances are high that things will go very wrong. But that's progress. (Multi-chaptered, Stalia & Scira)
1. Sugar Sweet

"Did you end up buying the sugar?" Stiles calls from the kitchen, cabinet doors slamming one after another. "I've been asking you for a week!"

Malia stretches out her arms, yawns. She had accidentally fallen asleep on the couch and Stiles' racket startled her.

"What sugar?" she asks innocently.

"For god's sake," he groans. "Sometimes I feel like I'm the responsible one in this household."

She tiptoes into the kitchen unnoticed, whispers, "That's because you are," from behind him. Her hot breath on the back of his neck sends a pleasant shiver down his spine.

But before she can trap him in her embrace, he whips around. Years of battling supernatural creatures left Stiles with a quick reaction to well…practically anything.

Including a feisty girlfriend.

"No, but seriously," he says, arms crossed and face warped in an expression of disappointment. He's standing his ground this time. "We're partners, and we each gotta put our share of-"

Malia pouts, her brown eyes boring into him the way they always do when he's trying to scold her. She's playing it up, of course, acting sweet and innocent and Stiles wishes her charm didn't work such magic on him, but it does. He leans back into the counter, runs a hand through his hair.

"Why would we need sugar," Malia says teasingly, "when I'm already so sweet?"

Stiles holds his breath as she approaches him, eyes locked with his, lips slightly parted. She has stopped acting now, her fake innocent persona replaced with the rawness that only real Malia can exert. She stands in between his legs, so close that Stiles can hear her heartbeat, loud and erratic. But she's waiting, not touching, not kissing. And Stiles can barely stand not kissing her right now.

So he leans in an inch, not bothering to start the kiss off lightly. They're both far beyond that, lips colliding with such intensity it hurts, tongues exploring the hollows of their mouths, teeth grazing. Stiles' arms wrap themselves around her waist; pull her in as close against him as it's physically possible. He can feel her heart beat even faster now, aroused at the thought that it beats like that for him.

"Stiles," she murmurs in between kisses, her hands on either sides of his head, fingers entwined in his hair. "My phone."

Stiles sighs into her mouth, "What?"

She pulls away. "My phone is vibrating, upstairs."

"No," He groans. "Oh come on, it's probably nothing."

Malia chuckles, forces herself out of his grasp and sprints up the stairs, her hair disheveled from their moment.

Stiles lets out a dissatisfied sigh. They've been together for almost six years now, living in this house for almost two, and yet it feels like no time has passed since the beginnings of their relationship. She makes is so difficult sometimes, but there's so much to her. So much that has been restrained, controlled by her and by other people. Yet there are glimpses, when he's lucky, of that unrestrained wilderness. And that in itself is worth living for.

He walks towards the living room, throws himself onto the couch, positive that the moment is bound to have no continuation. And he's right, because moments later, Malia descends the stairs with a scowl on her face.

He strains to look up at her. "Who was it?"

"Kira and Scott are getting married." She says.

"Whoa," he says, pretending to be surprised. Scott had told him about his intentions, but he was to keep it on the down low. In case Malia told Kira before it was time. Truth is, Stiles had forgotten about it almost completely until now.

Malia grimaces. "Right."

"And you're annoyed why?"

She lets out an exasperated sigh, "I'm not annoyed."

"Uh, pretty sure these are all sighs of annoyance." Stiles says, pointing to her sour face expression and crossed arms. She looks away pointedly. "Trust me, I'm a private detective."

"Fine," she says, giving up. "We're invited."

He snorts. "Well I'd hope we're invited. How many times did I end up saving Scott's ass? Can't say the same for Kira, but-"

"There's more." Malia groans. "Kira wants me to be her bridesmaid."

"That's it?" Stiles says. "I've begun to assume that all bad news are accompanied by supernatural creatures from the depth of the underworld."

"Thanks." Malia says, crossing her arms even higher up her chest, as though to make a point.

He walks up behind her, puts his hands on her shoulders and kneads. "Hey, it's gonna be fine. Our best friends are getting married."

Malia moans as his hands relieve some of her bottled up stress. "I know I should be happy," she says. "but I'm not."

He pulls her hair away from her neck, leans in to place a lingering kiss. She eases into him, cocks her head to give him more access.

"You still have a chance at happiness tonight," he whispers. "But tomorrow, you're buying sugar."

"Anything you want," Malia mutters, her breathing heavy. "Anything for you, Stiles."

When she gives into him, so easy and unquestioning, Stiles can barely contain himself. Malia has always been loyal, but she's a free spirit, and she does what she wants.

And tonight, she wants him.

**A/N: Ah, nothing like a new season to get the creative juices flowing. I'm trying my hand at a multi-chaptered fic this time, so bear with me. As always, leave a review if you enjoyed reading. It always puts a smile on my face. **


	2. Wild and Proper

Malia wakes up the next morning nuzzled against Stiles' chest, feet tangled in the mess of bed sheets. For a short moment, she feels blissfully content. Her eyes scan the environment; take in the bright rays of sunlight coming through the window, Stiles' arm wrapped around her waist, the muted blue of their bedroom walls. They settle on the bedside alarm clock, flashing large, red numbers. It's 9:37 a.m.

"Shit!" she exclaims, loud enough that Stiles' eyes flutter open almost immediately. He lets out a sound of indignation.

"What?" he asks.

"I'm late," she says through gritted teeth, pulling on a pair of pants and a shirt she quickly grabbed from the closet. "I'm gonna be in such shit."

Stiles yawns. "I'll give you a ride."

She stops, bites her lip. "I might need a faster means of transport."

His mouth falls wide open. "Don't."

She purses her lips; "If I make it in the next 10 minutes they won't get a substitute."

"Malia, it's dangerous." Stiles warns.

"I have a class to teach," she says. "and I'm planning to teach it."

He could argue with her, but that is never beneficial when it comes to Malia. She's already got her mind set on shifting and running through the woods like a wild animal. A wild ware-coyote, to be more exact.

So he lets her, yawning one last time as the doors slam behind her. After a shower and a hearty breakfast, he settles in to do some work. His office is large, but crammed with boxes of documents, filing cabinets and other materials. He scratches the back of his head, begins the day with the routine checking of messages.

_So I proposed today. Yeah, I know, thirty years later. Kira is on the phone with Malia right now, and uh I'm calling to tell you that you're my best man. I'll drop in later to talk._

Stiles smirks, taps his fingers on the desk.

In the staff washroom, Malia attempts to calm down the tangle of her hair. She's irritated, stressed and fidgety. The past few days have been filled with bad luck and she doesn't know how much more of it she can take.

"Morning," a tall blonde woman says as she walks through the door. "Everything okay?"

Malia takes a deep breath. "Just a minor hiccup this morning."

But the hiccup doesn't end there.

A student twisting an ankle interrupts her afternoon gym class, she overhears two teachers gossiping about her in the staff room, and on top of that, she is forced to eat lunch from the cafeteria.

So when Kira calls and asks to have dinner, Malia is torn between not wanting to hear any more about her bridesmaid duties and eating a good meal. But it's Malia, so a good meal always triumphs.

They meet at a local restaurant, Malia beating Kira by almost fifteen minutes. She's annoyed and hungry, drinking her second glass of wine. But when she looks up to see her best friend walking towards her, all those feelings disappear. Kira is glowing.

"Congratulations once again!" Malia says, giving her a tight hug.

"You can't imagine how happy I feel." Kira squeals. "For a while, I thought it'd never happen."

She waves her hand, "Why would you think that? Scott loves you."

"Yeah," Kira says. "Listen, I wanted to apologize for not making you the Maid of Honor."

"Really, there's no need."

"I just thought that it might stress you out," she says. "It's a lot of responsibility."

Malia grimaces. "Lydia will do a much better job than I ever could. Everything I touch ends up dying."

"That's not true," Kira says, "You know it's not."

Malia shrugs. "I don't know anything."

After dinner, Malia settles for a piece of lemon meringue pie. She has food in her body, and feels infinite times better about everything. Maybe this wedding won't be so bad. Maybe going to all the parties and events, and wearing a dress that is most likely uncomfortable and strange, won't be so bad. She's so lost in her thoughts, that when she does look up at Kira, she's met with an expression of discomfort.

"What's up?"

"I probably shouldn't say this," Kira says. "But I've always assumed that you and Stiles would get married before Scott and I ever did."

Malia gulps. "Why?"

"I can't explain it. I can see the feelings you two have for each other, like electricity."

She laughs. "It just seems that way."

Kira's lips tighten. So much for feeling better about weddings.

"Today has been a nightmare," Malia whines as she opens the door. "I need this wedding to stop."

"You're still at it?" Stiles calls from his office. "You're focusing on it too much."

"I'm not the one who is." She says, leaning on his doorway. "Kira's gotten sick with the wedding virus."

"What?"

"She thinks it's her responsibility to marry us."

Stiles dribbles some coffee on his shirt.

"That was my reaction." She says dismissively.

"Wait," he says. "Why?"

"Because there's some electricity between us or something." She replies. "I'm going to get a Coke."

"No, wait." Stiles says, following her. "Why are you so against getting married?"

She looks back at him. "I'm not."

"No, you are." He presses.

"Ugh fine Stiles," she says. "I hate that it has to be such a show."

"That's a shitty excuse and you know it." He says. "You had no problem showing me off as your properly for most of high school and then some."

Malia rolls her eyes. "Not the same."

"Explain."

"The people," she says. "The flowers, the music, the nauseating sweetness of it all. It's not my thing."

"Right, okay." Stiles says, walking back to his office.

Malia frowns. She assumed that telling Stiles how she feels about weddings would make her feel better, but it only made her feel worse.

**A/N: Another chapter coming your way! Thank you for reading and I hope you continue enjoying the story! **


	3. Dances and Butterflies

"I'm just saying," Malia says in between bites of steak. "You wouldn't be so bored."

"I'm not bored," Stiles says with a frown. "I work. I work from home."

Malia sighs. "Well when you're not working, you won't be 'accidentally' visiting me."

His mouth hangs open. "I thought you like it when I visit!"

"Not really," she says coolly. "It stresses me out."

"What?" Stiles says. "Why didn't you tell me? Why wouldn't you tell me such a thing?"

Malia rolls her eyes. "Because I was trying to avoid _this_."

"Fine." He says, picking at the mashed potatoes with his fork.

Malia lets out a loud sigh. "C'mon, why would you not want a dog?"

"Because I have enough on my hands with one wild animal."

She snorts. "That's offensive."

"Well maybe," He says. "Maybe I don't care."

The loud ring of the doorbell interrupts their staring contest. Malia gets up, moves her hips from one side to the other dramatically as she walks away. Stiles' eyes stray on her behind.

She unlocks the door, swings it open. "Yes?"

"Special delivery for Malia Tate and Stiles Sti-"

"Yeah." Malia says, looking at the small box curiously. It's wooden, has small holes on the sides.

"Sign here please."

"Hey Stiles," she yells from the hallway, slamming the door shut after the mailman. "We got something from Kira."

She places the box on the dining room table. "What's this?"

Stiles shrugs. "Open it."

Malia's eyes narrow. Her fingers work around the seal on the box. Just as the box is opened, three monarch butterflies escape through the broken seal, ambushing her.

She moans, watching them flutter around the room before landing on the curtains.

"That was nuts," Stiles says, taking a sip of orange juice, eyes glued to the curtains. Some of the liquid dribbles on his chin.

Malia rolls her eyes at him, picks out a card from the box. She throws her head back dramatically.

"What does it say?"

Malia reads out loud, "You are invited to Kira and Scott's engagement party, to celebrate their love and upcoming nuptials."

"You didn't know about this?" Stiles asks.

"No," she shakes her head. "I guess Lydia planned it."

"And didn't tell you?"

Malia chuckles, "Thankfully not."

Except she's not chuckling nearly as much when they're at the event. Stiles is having a drink with Derek, who has been living in New York for the past five years, and came out here for Scott. She sees him gesticulating wildly, sighs. Stiles hasn't so much as said a word with her all evening, running from one old friend to another. He should be here with her, abhorring the whole thing just as much as she is.

"You're awfully unhappy," Lydia says from behind her, "for such a happy occasion."

Malia whips her head back. "Hey, sit."

"I'm busy," she says. "I have to keep this thing running."

"You hired people to keep this thing running." Malia says, pointing out a couple of waiters carrying around beverages.

"Kira and Scott did," Lydia specifies, thinks for a moment. "Actually I probably should sit down."

"Had too much champagne?" Malia asks.

Lydia gives her a fake smile. "No, we need to talk about the bachelorette party."

"Why? I thought you're planning everything."

"I am," she says. "but I need to get the bridesmaids' approval."

"The cousins are talking with some of Scott's work friends." Kira's cousins, that is.

Lydia sighs, "I already talked with them. You're the only one left."

"If you insist." Malia says, "But first, I need more champagne."

"You can't get drunk."

"Don't remind me." Malia frowns.

She locates a tipsy Stiles talking with Danny, slurring a very bad joke. She's tired from the conversation on party venues, wants nothing but her boyfriend back and a soft, comforting bed.

"Hey," she says, dragging him away. "let's go home."

"It's too early," Stiles says. "They're only now setting up for the dancing."

"But I wanna go home," Malia says, unbuttoning his dress shirt with a mischievous grin.

Stiles gulps, considers for a moment. She looks amazing in her silk curve hugging dress. He'd love to slip it off her, have it pool around her legs. "You love dancing." He says cautiously.

"But not as much as I love you." She bites her lip, the lighting in the room dimming and music growing louder.

"Um," Kira says into the microphone in front of the makeshift dance floor. "The dance floor is open!" She looks uncomfortable, but Scott leads her to the dance floor, and soon enough, they are gently swaying to the music.

Malia looks at the scene wistfully, unable to decide whether she wants to dance or go back home with Stiles. Before she can make up her mind, he grabs her hand, leads her to the dance floor.

"One dance," he says, smiling.

Somehow, the one dance turns into a couple, and Stiles is humming as they get through the front door of their house. He's extremely hyper from the dancing and drinking, and so touchy that Malia almost finds it adorable. Almost.

"Do you need help unzipping the dress?" He says, stripping off his shirt in one move.

Malia grins. "There's no zipper to unzip." She toys with one of the straps on her dress. Stiles' lips part, eyes locked onto her fingers, gently pushing the strap off her shoulder.

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Leave a review if you enjoyed it. Are you all as excited for all the Stalia in Season 4 as I am? **


	4. Lonesome and Twosome

Stiles slams the door of his Jeep shut, rattles the keys in his hand as he walks up the stairs to his house. Unlocks the door, yawns loudly. The whole day has been fruitless, following a lead that was not a lead after all. So it was back to the drawing board, another day wasted.

"Shhh," someone whispers in the depths of the house. "You gotta be quiet. Daddy's home."

Feeling a sense of incredible panic, Stiles rushes into the living room. His mouth drops wide open. In the middle of their carpet, Malia is crouching next to a thing. A small, furry, funny looking thing. A dog.

Malia looks up at him, her eyes as large and glossy as the dog's. Innocently begging for permission.

"Malia!" He exclaims, hand running through his hair. "What is this?"

"Just don't freak out." She says cautiously.

"I'm already freaking out," Stiles says. "I'm freaking out!"

"I know," She says, holding the dog in her arms protectively, as though afraid Stiles might attack it. "But we talked about it."

"We didn't talk about this," Stiles says, gesturing to the dog. "I told you I didn't want a dog."

Malia's eyes furrow, lips form into a frown. "Fine." She walks away.

Stiles groans, rubs his eyes because he is so tired of his dead-end investigation, of a girlfriend that disregards his feelings, of everyone around him getting their happy ending and him being stuck in a rut.

Maybe he needs a break. The dog barks as Stiles walks out of the house, defeated.

"Dude, you're making a big deal out of nothing," Scott says, taking a sip of his beer and reclining in the sofa.

Stiles snorts. "I'm gonna be stuck with that thing most of the time. And I'm the bad guy for being against it."

"Dog," Scott specifies. "And maybe it's not such a bad idea. You've been running yourself dry the past couple of months."

"I'm fine."

"Fine," Scott says. "But let me give you some marriage advice. Make some compromises."

"Dude!" Stiles says, horrified. "One, I'm not married. Two, you're not even married yet. And three, I've been the one making the compromises since we started dating!"

Scott sighs. "You need to chill."

"You wanna get out?" Stiles asks. "Go somewhere for a bit?"

"I would Stiles, I really would, but Kira's gonna be home in a bit and we've got cake tasting planned."

"Yeah, alright."

And just like that, Stiles is alone again. Roaming the streets, kicking metaphorical stones, hands in his jean pockets. Malia hasn't even called him yet. Probably too busy with the amusement that the dog brings her.

"Single room please." He says, tapping his fingers on the front desk of a hotel lobby. It pains him to do this, but perhaps Scott is right. He just needs a little break from home. From Malia.

Stiles opens the case files on his laptop, starting into the bright screen, his eyes red and irritated. His phone lies next to him, where his eyes dart constantly, waiting, hoping that Malia calls.

But she doesn't. So Stiles resolves to be a pessimist, thoughts trailing into the territory that he hadn't allowed them to before. Malia hates weddings, and expresses this fact freely. She'd been irritated with him, annoyed when they went out together. And now with the dog, it seems that she's just looking for excuses to shut him out. Sure, their constant sexual endeavors tell a different story, but Malia has always been sexually liberated and-

There's a knock on the door. Stiles walks towards it, wonders why anyone would be bothering him so late at night. Reluctantly, he opens the door. Before he can truly assess the situation, he is pinned to the wall by Malia, who just as reluctantly pulls away when Stiles remains unresponsive. Her eyes narrow, trying to find the right words.

Stiles sits down on the bed, rubs his eyes.

"Stiles, I'm sorry." She says, trying to make eye contact. "I got carried away with the dog stuff."

"I'm over it," he says dismissively.

"No," Malia says, biting her lip. "No, I should have been a better girlfriend to you."

He looks up at her, gulps. Is this the beginning of a breakup speech? After so many years together, a house, an assumed future. Looking up at her, now, is like looking up at the sun.

"I don't know how to say this," she continues. "I didn't think I'd be the one doing this. But Stiles, you were right. You left and I kept thinking about how selfish I've been and how much you had to give up to make this work between us. I don't think it's fair to you, especially since we don't really have anything to show for it."

"We have a house," Stiles says. "We've had a very long, happy relationship."

"Yeah, but there's something missing."

Stiles rubs the back of his neck. The only thing missing was his courage to propose to her, to ask even though he was scared she'd say no. And now, she's saying no even without the question.

He is startled when Malia drops on one knee in front of him. She looks uncomfortable, unsure.

"Uh, Stiles, I know today hasn't exactly been the best day and I know It's my fault. But, I love you so much, more than anything. You have been the biggest support, and I don't ever want to be parted from you. Ever. Not even for a little bit."

For a moment, Stiles cannot fully understand the progression of events. Just mare moments ago, he was preparing himself for what would have undoubtedly been the most painful heartbreak. And now, Malia is in front of him, talking about her undying love. It is almost as though she is proposing to him.

"When you left today, I understood that my fears about weddings and marriage are nothing compared to the fear of not having you with me. So, um, I guess I'm asking whether you'd want to get married."

He opens his mouth, but cannot speak. The shock leaves him momentarily speechless.

"Do you want to get married? To me?"

"I- Malia, of course I want to be married to you." Stiles says, pulling her up from her knees.

"No, wait." She says, pulling away and reaching into her pocket. "I got you a ring."

She pulls out a small, velvet box, opens it. Puts the band on Stiles' ring finger.

"Okay," she says. "Now you can kiss me."

He pulls her against him, brushes the hair from her face, waits a moment before crashing his lips against hers, the kiss firm but urgent. As they unravel in front of each other, euphoric from the day's events, Stiles cannot help but think that everything happened as it should have. Malia completed him in so many ways, always pulling him up where and when he couldn't do it himself.

"How long have you been planning this for?" Stiles asks, lying on the bed, his hand lightly brushing Malia's naked shoulder.

She breathes against his neck, fingers drawing circles on his chest. "Not long at all."

"How many days?"

"About four hours."

"You sure this wasn't a silly impulse that you'll regret in the morning?"

Malia laughs. "I've been with you for almost a decade. This doesn't change anything."

"Oh, it changes a lot." Stiles says.

"Oh really," Malia says, pulling him in for a kiss.

**A/N: I always imagined that Malia would be the one to propose, if it ever came to that. But no worries, Stiles will get his turn as well. Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed this chapter! **


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